Desperate Times
by Eos rosy-fingered
Summary: Lisa has a feeling that someone is stalking her. The police are no help, and to make matters worse, Jackson Rippner is unexpectedly released from prison. Beta: Keppiehed


**Some wounds don't heal that quickly**

"Lisa, I know that you're an adult." Joe Reisert put out a hand as Lisa opened her mouth to comment. "But I really think that you should move in with me until you feel better."

Up until the last sentence, Lisa was merely impatient. After her father had finished, her expression changed and she said slowly, "Dad, the problem is that it's not the matter of my feeling better. I will feel better as soon as it's over. And it really doesn't help that even you don't believe me." Lisa tried to not sound accusatory, but her voice cracked slightly and the desperation she'd been feeling for the past few months laced her words.

Her father watched her in silence for a moment, then closed his eyes, as if wanting to come up with the right words. Lisa had heard those words a thousand times by now. The crease between her dad's brows went deeper, and Lisa hated the fact that it was because of her.

"Leese," he began, then looked at her, stood up and walked to her chair. Kneeling down in front of her, he took both of her hands in his and spoke again. "Lisa, you know that I love you more than anything in this world and that I would do anything, _anything_—" he shook her hands briefly to emphasize his words, "for you. I would kill for you and gladly go to prison for it. Just anything." Lisa drew a breath to interrupt, but her father merely squeezed her hands to hush her. "God knows that what you've been through would last for a few lifetimes, and I wish I could do something to take it all back—"

"Dad." Lisa tried to stand up and extricate her hands, but her father didn't release them.

"Lisa, this is important. This is about your future, your life. Listen to me."

Lisa reluctantly sat back.

"You think that someone has been following you for the last couple of months."

"For four months, Dad—"

"For four months. We told the police. They took it very seriously, gave you protection and sniffed around for a month. They found nothing. No one trailing you, no one observing you, no traces of presence at your flat."

"I never said he was in my flat! I said he was following me!"

Joe Reisert was silent for a moment, looking at her intently.

"How do you know it's a he?" he finally asked, raising his eyebrow.

"Because what a reason would a woman have to follow me?" Lisa was very tired of her words being constantly questioned nowadays, and her temper flared. "It was a he the first time, and it was a he the second time. And overall it's usually a he!"

Her father stroked the back of her hand soothingly, and Lisa pressed her lips together to stop herself from shouting again.

"Okay, I understand. The law of probability. But let's think of other possibilities: you are overly sensitive." Lisa narrowed her eyes and her father quickly continued. "It's natural. But don't you think that you might be exaggerating, interpreting things the wrong way?"

"No, Dad, I don't think so," Lisa said quietly, looking at their joined hands on her lap.

Joe Reisert sighed and continued, "Then I hired that detective agency, and again they gave you protection and sniffed about and again: nothing."

"They were lousy amateurs from a B-class movie! You could tell from one hundred yards 'lousy private detectives'!"

Her father didn't comment and continued, "Then we asked Keefe for help, and even if he doesn't control FBI or CIA, he has, or had, enough power to pull some strings. Not to mention that since you were involved in an assassination attempt at the high official he had the means to back up his request. His men didn't find anything, Leese."

Her father fell silent and looked at her with worry in his gaze.

Lisa hated that she sounded like a petulant child contradicting everything her father said, but she couldn't let that go.

"His men didn't find out about an attempt on his life. Jackson has been following _me_ for two months, so how long, do you think, was his organization gathering information on Keefe? And they still didn't notice. And the Coast Guard searched the boat with the rocket on it and didn't find it."

The last bit had boosted her morale a lot, when she had found out, but only for a short while; overall it just made her lose faith in state institutions. The fact that she had trusted Jackson Rippner, thought him charming and funny, outweighed everything else and left her with an unsettling feeling that she wasn't capable of correctly judging one's nature and that there was no safety in this world.

Her father didn't comment on her leveling the charges against the official agencies, either, but went on with his line of reasoning.

"Then you hired another detective agency and hid it from me," he looked pointedly at her, "and even they didn't find anything. Do you realize what that means, Lisa?"

"That they don't do what they're paid for?"

Lisa sat ramrod straight, her hands getting cold despite her father's warm touch. She could see pity and disappointment in his eyes, but not a hint of understanding or belief in what she was saying. A very unpleasant feeling formed at the pit of her stomach.

Her father lowered his gaze, defeated. He released her hands and got up with difficulty, his knees popping. He sank into his favorite armchair and sighed.

"You've quit three therapies, you don't want to move in with me, you don't want to go visit your mother, you refuse to go on holidays. A change of scene would do you good. Leese, I don't know how to help you."

Lisa looked at her hands folded in her lap. As much as she knew that her father wouldn't agree with her, she felt that hiding her true thoughts from him would create a wall between them. And it wasn't any more about pretending that she got over what had happened, like she used to do. This time it was about preventing.

"I don't want to leave. Here, if anything happens, at least somebody would notice that I'm gone. While traveling ..."

"Leese ..."

She looked up, and the pain she saw in her father's eyes was more than she could bear. She shot to her feet and smoothed her skirt nervously.

"Look at the time! I should be going."

Her father stood up as well.

"As much as I'd like you to stay overnight, if you want to go, go now. I don't like it when you're outside after dark. I'll call you a cab."

Lisa smiled thinly and mouthed, "Thank you." For her, it didn't matter if she was assaulted in the broad daylight or after dark. She also didn't think she needed a taxi; she would prefer a long walk to her condo, but she decided that she had to give in to her father on something.

They loitered in front of the house. The killing heat hadn't come yet, and Lisa thought she would only take a corner in a cab, vanish from her father's sight and walk home from there.

When the taxi pulled up, Joe Reisert scrutinized the driver, looking him deep in the eyes. Lisa had to smile at the man's puzzled look.

"Get in, Lisa," her father said to her and shut the door after her, then he addressed the driver. "Take my daughter straight home."

"Yes, sir!" The driver saluted the old man and pulled out into the road. He glanced at Lisa in a rear view mirror. "You must be a very rebellious young lady."

Lisa laughed nervously. "Yeah. My father thinks I have a mind of my own."

She could see the driver nodding. "Where to?"

"Um, Lincoln Road, please." She gave the first destination that came to mind.

The cab rolled quietly through the neighborhood, and Lisa stared absently through the window. Little had changed since she had moved out. A few people walked their dogs, a girl rode a bicycle, a pair of policemen in a radio car were chatting up a young woman in a very short skirt, clearly not able to take their eyes off her tanned body.

_Bastards!_ thought Lisa with sudden vehemence. _They wouldn't have noticed if a bomb exploded behind their backs!_

She glanced at her wristwatch. "Could you please take me to Police Headquarters?"

The cab driver turned his head to look at her, and then followed her gaze. "Ah, Miss, it's not my business, but it's not a grave offense to take a little break."

"Oh, no, of course not," Lisa smiled so artificially that she was sure the cab driver didn't believe her intentions. "I've just remembered I had something to do there."

"Sure." The pleasant smile left his face and he stepped on the gas harder, anxious to get rid of his passenger as soon as possible. In five minutes he parked carelessly outside the brick building. "Twenty bucks."

Lisa handed him a bill and stepped out. The slide door let her in to the much cooler interior.

"Miss Reisert." A man at the counter shouted to her from a distance. "What can I do for you?"

"Hello," Lisa, all business, smiled at him. "Is Sergeant McNamara in his office?"

"Yes, I believe so." The young receptionist sat still, as if the mere information that Dylan McNamara was in his office could satisfy Lisa.

There had been a time that she had been ushered upstairs as soon as she had walked through the door. Those times were long gone, it seemed, Lisa mused bitterly.

"May I see him?" Her smile was killing her. She wanted to pound her fist on the desk.

"I'll ask." He didn't seem sure if he should even ask, but he picked up the phone. "Reception here. Miss Lisa Reisert would like to see you." There was some long response, much longer than a simple 'yes' or 'no'. Finally, the receptionist hung up and said, "Sergeant McNamara is awaiting you. You know your way."

Lisa nodded curtly, spun on her heel and marched away. The familiar door let her in, and a man behind a desk raised his tired eyes to look at her.

"Miss Reisert, what happened?"

Lisa stifled what was always on the tip of her tongue: 'someone's following me'.

"I wanted to ask if there is any news from the patrolling squads?"

"Nothing that pertains to your case."

"No increased criminal activity, no suspicious people in the neighborhood, nothing alarming?"

"No, Miss Reisert, apart from a break into a grocery shop, one brawl, a few car crashes and the likes."

"What if your men didn't watch closely enough?"

McNamara put down his pen and steepled his fingers under his chin. Lisa knew that she had said too much, but she didn't care. She lifted her chin and stared, unblinking, at the sergeant.

"Miss Reisert," he started very slowly, "if you have any complaints about my officers, there are special forms available at our reception."

Lisa pressed her lips into thin line. She knew very well what happened to those special forms, once they have been filled in. After taking one calming breath, she spoke again.

"I also wanted to ask about my inquiry from a month ago. It was done on one of your special forms." She didn't even try to keep the venom from her voice.

"I believe we've sent you a reply. Haven't you received it yet?" McNamara was all false concern.

At this point, Lisa was clutching her handbag to stop herself from an attack of hysterics.

"Yes, I have. Only I don't understand your reply. I asked a very simple question: Is William Donahue still detained?"

"Everything we could tell you and everything you need to know is in that reply."

Lisa moved her jaw and kept silent.

"So it seems that I can't expect any help here," she said after a while. It came out more dramatic and desperate than she had intended.

Unexpectedly, Sergeant McNamara lowered his gaze. When he looked up again, he gestured to the chair in front of his desk.

"Please, sit down, Miss Reisert," he said with a sigh.

Lisa plopped herself down on the chair. "What is it?"

"We didn't plan on telling you," McNamara played with his pen, "but since it's not classified and by some twist of fate you're here today, I think it's better that you hear it from me. This way it won't cause an unnecessary panic."

Lisa was panicking right now, necessary or not. Fate had not been kind to her. She had only one association.

"Is it about my stalker?" Lisa asked quietly.

"No, Miss Reisert, and I'd like to repeat that we strongly believe that there is no stalker." His eyes flickered away from Lisa's for a second, and she froze in anticipation. "What I'd like to say is that Jackson Rippner was released today."

Lisa's hand shot to her throat. She couldn't breathe and felt a ghost grip cutting off her windpipe. She must have sat with her eyes wide and her mouth open for too long, because McNamara raised from his chair and walked around his desk to her.

"Miss Reisert? Are you okay?"

His face was very close to hers, but she couldn't focus her sight on him. She could only see another set of eyes boring into hers and another face contorted into grimace of fury. The rasped out words_ We'll talk again._ floated to her.

"I'll get you some water." McNamara vanished from her field of view.

When the sergeant came back with a plastic cup, Lisa could breathe again. Closing her eyes, she took a few gulps of water.

McNamara propped himself against his desk, crossed his arms over his chest and watched her worriedly.

"As I said, there's no need to panic. Rippner is released under a special program. Believe me, he's under our total control."

Lisa cleared her throat and said in a shaking voice, "Rippner at large and Rippner under control are two different things, and no program is going to change that. Believe me, Mr McNamara, I know it firsthand."

"With all due respect, our means are a bit more, uh, complex, Miss Reisert. I hope you understand that if certain steps had not been taken, he wouldn't have been released. We have many levels of control and ways to assure that he behaves like we want him to—"

Lisa decided that she had heard enough.

"Whatever you say." She stood up and turned to exit. "Goodbye."

McNamara made one step towards her, as if he wanted to stop her. "Don't do anything rash!"

Maybe the door closed a bit louder that it should have, maybe her heels were beating out a rhythm a little too hurriedly, maybe she almost crashed into someone walking down the corridor, but she didn't care. She wanted to get out of there and do something to prepare herself.

Lisa walked out of the building and went straight ahead, not knowing where she was going. She came to her senses on a square after almost colliding with a newspaper stand, still clutching the plastic cup in her hand. She downed the rest of the water and looked around. So she had a stalker. And now she had Jackson Rippner on her back, as well. She didn't believe for one second that any program was going to stop Rippner. The look in his eyes came to mind from when he had lain on the floor of her father's house. There had been an unmasked threat in them, and Lisa knew that Jackson, above all, was tenacious. Even shot twice all he could think of was hurting her, and she had infuriated him beyond any limits. She couldn't believe he would ease off until he would consider the score settled.

Another thought sprang to her mind: maybe Rippner was behind all that stalking. Maybe not him personally—if he had been in prison until today—but it wasn't unheard of that someone could arrange something from behind the bars. The stalker was very skilled, of Rippner's class, it made sense if they were from the same organization. Now, however, it could be him personally, taking over, _finishing the job_ ...

Lisa clutched the belt of her bag until her nails dug into her palm. _Don't panic, Leese,_ she told herself. _You've managed then, you'll manage now. Just don't lose your head._ She started to circle the kiosk, pretending to be looking at the papers, but in fact she was watching the people closely, looking for the familiar face.

He could be anywhere. On the other side of the road, in a building behind her, in a shop, maybe sitting on a bench under a tree, with a book in his hands, with that innocent look of his, laughing up his sleeve at the way she was nervously looking around. Or maybe has was waiting in her flat, or possibly dropping by to see her father.

Her cell phone rang and Lisa jumped. She dug into her bag and fished it out.

"Hello?" she said breathlessly.

"Hi, Lisa! You still going with us? Just reminding you." It was Cynthia's excited voice. Ever since Lisa's victory over Jackson almost a year ago, they had celebrated every week. It had been meant as a one off, but the joy bursting in her had been so great that they went out almost every day for the first month. Slowly, other staff members joined them, then their friends, and before Lisa knew it she was going out with a whole bunch of people, even if she didn't meet them outside the club.

"Uh, Cynthia, something's come up and I don't think—"

"Lisa, I can't hear you, lalalala. Same time, same place! See ya!" Cynthia's cheerful voice sounded in her ear and then the disconnection.

Dad.

Lisa was about to press the button, when her phone rang again. 'Dad' blinked on display, and she took it hastily, her heart in her throat.

"Yes?"

She was almost sure that she would hear Rippner's rasping voice, but instead it was familiar: "Lisa, are you okay?"

"Yes, Dad." She breathed out in relief. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, of course I'm okay. Sergeant McNamara called me. He said that you ran out of his office like a lighting bolt. He was worried."

Lisa laughed bitterly. "Worried? Understatement of the century. Did he tell you—"

"Yes, Lisa, I know. Jackson Rippner was released today. McNamara said that he's under special program. I'll bet they'll watch him closely, what with Keefe and all. But I do understand that you're upset. It really would be better if you went out for a while, took a little vacation. Are you sure you don't wanna spend the night here?"

"No, Dad, I'm sure." Lisa ignored the bit about holidays. "Cynthia just called and reminded me about our rave night out."

"That's good, Leese. Just promise me that someone will walk you home."

A broken record again. Lisa felt the need to end the conversation.

"I promise, Dad. I have to finish now. I want to take a nap. I'm exhausted."

"All right. Just ... you didn't tell me that you were going to the police."

Lisa sighed. "I didn't know back then."

"Okay, Leese." Her father sounded more resigned than convinced. "Good bye, sweetheart."

"Good bye, Dad."

dob

Lisa walked to her flat and took time to inspect the cars parked outside the building. They all seemed empty. Inside, she paused mid-step on the stairs, listening carefully to make certain she didn't hear another pair of footsteps somewhere below or above her. There was silence, but it was as thick as syrup. Lisa could almost feel the breathing on her neck.

She went up the remaining steps running on her tiptoes, fished out the bunch of keys and with shaking hands opened the door. Closing it behind her, she immediately locked all the locks. Her windows were permanently curtained now; she spent all her days at work, anyway.

She went to the bathroom, washed her hands, changed into an old T-shirt and took one pill from the medicine cabinet. She was going to lie down immediately, but something kept on nagging at her. Before the pill kicked in, she quickly inspected her flat: inside all the wardrobes, behind the curtains, then kitchen and bathroom again.

All was clear. Lisa dragged herself to the bedroom on her last legs and went out cold.


End file.
